


Burning Down the House

by DovahDoes



Series: Rook is Actually Just a Tourist Destination AU [1]
Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rook is Actually a Tourist Destination, Blow Jobs, Both these boys are t h i r s t y for each other, Getting Together, Hiking/Tour Guide!Vaas, Jason REALLY likes giving blowjobs, M/M, Moving In Together, Nobody asked for a prequel BUT HERE IT IS ANYWAY, Skydiving Instructor!Jason, Smut, That's a mutually beneficial set of happenstances in this fic, Vaas apparently REALLY likes Jason with a beard, Vaason, but it's resolved by the end- don't worry, it's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahDoes/pseuds/DovahDoes
Summary: (Prequel to'The Candle Fic', wherein Jason and Vaas are a happily married, antagonistic couple working for Hoyt's huge resort/vacation conglomerate.)This spans Jason's arrival to Rook, his and Vaas' contentious first meeting (wherein Grant doesnotdie, butdoesget laid out),  Jason's moving into Vaas' place,  Jason's (occasionally purposeful) thirst traps for his roommate, and their first time falling into bed together.ORVaas' ridiculous new roommate walks around in hisverywell-fitted underwear, trots around after him like a neglected puppy, always seems to be drinking beverages in the most suggestive manner possible, and is suddenly sporting the absolute most attractive beard he haseverseen.Living with Carlos hadneverbeen so complicated.





	Burning Down the House

**Author's Note:**

> [Back to throwing 80s songs into titles, I guess. Haha]

[(Inspired by [this](http://taggianto.tumblr.com/post/170316615761/moepoke-this-is-some-college-au-gold) post on Tumblr.  (Skip to the end of the fic to see the image/text, if the link's not working.)]

  *****

 

Doug is on his fourth bar in as many hours and is contemplating actually ordering his first alcoholic beverage of the evening (something he typically avoids, what with being on the clock and all) when something about one of the many conversations flowing around him catches his attention.

 

It’s mostly a few buzzwords about ‘static lines’ in relation to ‘PCA’ and ‘BOC’ systems that draw him in— if _anyone_ from Rook knows their skydiving shit, it’s Douglas Tenalo.  Well, and apparently, this overexcited college kid pulling up video after video from his YouTube page of what seem to be every kind of aerial stunt and adventure one can enter into.

 

Some kind of intuitive curiosity keeps him in his seat, nearby.  Likely, it’s fueled by self-preservation, considering that the current Aerial Adventures Director of Programs is a lukewarm success from Craigslist— something Doug would _never_ reveal to Hoyt, as the man is notoriously meticulous about the vetting portion of the hiring process.

 

So he spends a few minutes more sitting in his chair nursing his mostly empty glass of cola and eavesdropping on the excited, overloud retelling of the guy’s most recent base-jumping adventure.  Having gleaned the young man’s name, it is the work of only a few minutes for Hoyt Volker’s favourite headhunter to catch himself up on all things Jason Brody.  After shooting off a quick text to one of his department’s research & background check guys, he receives an emailed version of a preliminary file on his quarry.

 

The Rook islander is moderately impressed to find out that the guy is actually certified and accredited in a number of aerial safety and instruction procedures and skills— some of which he’d had no idea even existed.  On a whim, he does some additional, perfunctory digging on the kid’s LinkedIn page and sees that he’d attended UCLA and had majored in International Development Studies and minored in Spanish.  No rocket scientist or engineer— not with the insane, adrenaline-junkie tendencies— but seemingly well-adjusted and self-sufficient.  (Certainly better off mentally than Montenegro had been when he’d been hired on, full time, all those years ago, though.)

 

Blowing out a breath when he realizes that, yeah, he _does_ kind of think this guy might be worth feeling out as a potential new hire, Doug finally drains the half-inch of melted ice cubes and diluted Coke and sets the empty glass down on the glossy bar top.

 

He cracks his neck and gets his game face on before sliding off of the stool at the corner of the bar and surveying the rest of the room with a smile and a discerning eye.  When he spots the group of raucous tourists not too far away, the Brody kid and several of his compatriots are laughing uproariously at the antics of a jacked **-** looking military-type guy.  (Probably Brody’s brother or cousin, with how many features they share.)

 

Regardless of any of that, though, it’s pretty clearly time to hand out some “hard-to-find” discount certificates for The Rook Islands Experience© activity packages. And it shouldn’t be too hard to get the liquored up party of Americans to take him up on the offer, either, if he’s reading the situation right.  All he _really_ needs, though, is to get Jason Brody to the island for long enough to sway him into what he’s going to frame as the job opportunity of a lifetime.

 

With an affected swagger, an earnest, companionable grin, and a pocket full of 40% off Rook Islands Experience© coupons, he ambles into their circle.

 

_Looks like it's showtime, again._

 

*****

 

**Two Months Later**

 

In an intriguing turn of events, Jason has only _just_ , _finally_ been hired on by Hoyt, after spending just over a month working with Rakyat Vacations©.  Evidently, Citra’s company’s headhunter, Dennis, had almost literally snatched Jason out right from under Hoyt’s nose the very day the Americans had arrived on Rook North, and it has been beyond shitty suffering through Hoyt’s 5-week-long snit over the whole thing.  Brody couldn’t have been welcomed into the fold soon enough, so far as Doug, Vaas, and Buck were concerned; a sulky Hoyt Volker is a more shout-y, irritable Hoyt Volker, after all.

 

In any case, Vaas had been only distantly involved in the whole Jason Brody thing, up until recent events.  Their initial meeting had been pretty contentious, admittedly, what with Vaas having punched his older brother right in the face at one of Vaas’ infamously wild parties at the old employee training facility.  It’d been probably about the second or third day the group of visiting Americans was on the island, and an incredibly drunk Grant Brody had gone down the wholly inadvisable avenue of bitching about the Rook Islands’ shortcomings _way_ too loudly at an event whose hair trigger, pugnacious host happened to have been born and raised on those very same islands.

 

The big guy had been pretty summarily laid out by a lightning-fast sucker punch after a bit of escalating back and forth with him.  Jason— who’d missed the entire buildup to the altercation— had been smart enough to stick to simply yelling at the mohawked tour guide once his brother’s girlfriend, Daisy, explained that Grant had actually kind of had it coming.

 

So yeah.  Things seemed kind of strained, seeing as the fuming California boy had made his first ever goodbye via an irate “Oh fuck _you_!” as he’d helped haul his half-conscious brother out of the party.

 

From there, they’d had a few tense run-ins, thanks to the fact that the two dominant tourism conglomerates had _tons_ of overlap in many areas and activities on the larger of the two relatively small islands.  The tipping point in their prickly dynamic had been one good knock-down, drag-out fight that had managed to shift them away from enmity and into something approaching grudging respect and even camaraderie.  (A huge part of that had been helped along by Vaas’ jumping into the cenote he’d accidentally— _terrifyingly_ — knocked a dazed Jason into at the crescendo of their aforementioned fierce brawl.)

 

And _then_ , not all too long after that, Jason had gotten into it with Citra (which, duh— _everyone_ does, eventually), and had asked if he could crash at Vaas and Carlos’ place for a week or so until he could hole up in one of Hoyt’s properties, since he would now be working for him.

 

Sticking with the theme of upheaval, early autumn only kept on with its tumultuous series of events, as a scant week after Jason had bunked up with the two old amigos, Carlos was promoted to the head of his department— Vehicle Maintenance and Upkeep— and transferred to Rook South, where the requisite main facilities were located.

 

In a similar vein, the middle Brody sibling was officially hired on, full time, as the new Supervisor/Instructor for all manner of jumping-out-of-a-plane-or-off-of-a-cliff, daredevil-type bullshit at Rook Islands Adventures.  (And who knew the frat boy had _actually_ sat down to study and practice something long enough and well enough to _actually_ get official pieces of paper and certifications and shit for it?  Huh...)

 

The younger man had looked hesitant for the first time since Vaas had met him when he approached the smirking Rook native about moving in on a more permanent basis.  To keep things simple, they’d agreed he’d just slot right in and take on the same rent and amenities as Carlos had during his residency at the moderately sized bungalow.

 

And _that_ had been where things went in a strange direction, because _nothing_ with Jason in the past month has been anything like having his longtime friend, Carlos, living with him.

 

*****

 

For one thing, Carlos hadn’t tended to wander around the house in just a pair of fitted boxer briefs in an impressive range of vivid hues.  The department head of hiking and ‘wilderness’ exploration has been treated to a veritable parade of underwear in ombré teals, seafoam greens, sky blues, jet blacks, and most memorably, _red_ : Vaas’ favourite colour.  Yes, the house is kept maybe a _hair_ warm to save on A/C, sometimes, but who the hell needs to do that many mundane, everyday tasks in just their drawers?

 

Clearly, the answer is ‘Jason Brody’, for some reason.

 

On another note, he has never known his previous roommate to absolutely _need_ to down nearly every liquid straight out of its original container, eschewing pouring it into a glass nine times out of ten.  Nor does Carlos tend to lick his lips after taking a drink.  (Although, Vaas has never really had any reason to notice the guy’s lips, so maybe it makes some degree of sense to not have observed the behavior.)

 

It’s also likely that his closest amigo had been raised to drink beverages out of fucking cups or _actual glassware_ , like a regular human being, instead of out of a damn bottle, like this basic gringo does.

 

And the man really is _always_ parched, it seems— determinedly taking deep draughts with his head tipped back to showcase the long lines of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he works to swallow every last drop.  Really, you’d think he’d learn to keep a damn water bottle in his actual room or something by now.

 

Another point of contention, and perhaps the most callous-sounding one, is that the guy just smiles too damn much.

 

Vaas can admit he is self-confident, often to the point of arrogance, but even he knows he’s not _that_ fucking amusing to be around.  So why the hell is Snow White _always_ sporting that dopey smile around him?

 

Shit, when Vaas gets home after him, it’s like coming home to a dog.  A big, dumb, goofily grinning dog that does a poor job of restraining itself from following Vaas around with painfully mundane questions about his day.  (Which, honestly, is kind of nice.  Carlos has never been too intrusive of a guy, so being able to vent about the few unbelievably idiotic tourists intent on getting themselves killed/severely injured has become something he almost looks forward to.)

 

Plus, he’d always wanted a dog when he’d been a kid, so having one that essentially takes care of itself and isn’t prone to barking at the mailman is a pretty good deal.

 

Oh— _oh_ , and on a related note, there’s what Vaas has had to label the final straw: the _noises_.

 

For all the jokes about how raucous both sides of his family— both Latino _and_ Rakyat— can get, he has _never_ heard someone make so many fucking unnecessary sounds as Jason Brody.

 

Whenever the guy plays one of his many horror games, he’ll gasp dramatically at almost any jump-scares and chant panicked, breathy whimpers of “Oh _fuck_ ” during particularly fraught instances, as though his actual _real_ life is in peril.  (Shamefully, this particular tendency rarely fails to pique Vaas’ ever-weirder libido.)

 

He’s also caught the tail end of a few videos of Jason wing-suiting or hang-gliding or what the fuck ever, and true-to-character, the younger man’s exhilarated, breathless screams and triumphant “ _Hell yeah_!”s were about all he could hear over top of the constant roaring of air whipping past at terminal velocity.  (Damningly, like a growing number of his weird habits and idiosyncrasies, this, too, somehow ends up being as endearing as it is annoying.)

 

The worst thing, though, is how when the guy gets home and has a bite of something— _anything_ , it seems— he moans obscenely more often than not.  It’s not actually all that loud, truth be told, but god _damnit_ , it’s _just_ loud enough for him to hear if he’s nearby.  Initially, Vaas had cracked the same half dozen or so jokes about it before figuring it’d be easier to let it go and move on with his life, even if that somehow ends up with him leaving an extra serving out of whatever he’s managed to whip up for a quick supper.

 

And really, if Jason feels the same way about a good bite of homemade beef stir-fry as Vaas does about a perfectly rolled and packed joint of Purple Rook, then who is he to piss on the guy’s parade for just liking something?  Gods know working fulltime for Hoyt Volker necessitates getting in touch with whatever it is that de-stresses you in your downtime.

Still, it has become increasingly difficult not to imagine that emotive voice gasping out a litany of “ _fuck_ ”s and countless other wordless pleas in a completely different context than any that has been presented so far.

At this point, it’s beyond obvious that not only is he more than a little bit thirsty for his new roommate, but that he also appears to ‘have it pretty bad’ for the guy, on a level _beyond_ just the physical one.

 

(Fucking insightful, quiet Carlos had taken one look at his former roommate while they went out for their usual weekly lunch and had only needed to raise an eyebrow after suffering through fifteen straight minutes of Brody-related complaints to convince Vaas of the fact, too.)

 

*****

 

And so, nearly two weeks of this weird dance go by with Vaas trying to curb his suddenly hyper-focused libido while simultaneously attempting to gauge exactly how many of Jason’s ridiculous behaviours are intentionally provocative.  As far as he knows, the guy is almost painfully straight, so it wouldn’t do to go initiate a full on ‘hunt’ and traumatize the little white boy too much by coming on too strong.

 

Or at least that’s what he tells himself up until the second week in November arrives, putting the two Rook Islands Experience employees at one month and twelve days of cohabitation.  Up until roughly 7 pm on that Wednesday, the Rook native has had a perfectly normal level of awareness of his roommate’s face and its often-present stubble.

 

At 6:54 pm that day, something must short out in his brain, though, because suddenly, the well-maintained beard that the bleary-eyed, half-asleep Californian has been sporting recently is about the most compellingly attractive feature he has ever seen.

 

Vaas’ mouth feels parched, for some strange reason, as his eyes hungrily trace every clean-cut edge of the facial hair that cuts across the other man’s pale skin.

 

“ _Fuck_ …” he whispers to himself, emphatically.

 

Jason looks over, confused, scratching lightly at his stomach for a moment before closing the fridge with a raised eyebrow even as his sleepy gaze remains on Vaas.

 

“You, uh, you okay, man?  You’re kinda making a face, there…” he intones, voice a bit husky.

 

Vaas’ traitorous eyes wander up to the sleep-mussed mop of hair, and then down to the habitually well-fitted underwear the other man sports.  None of which helps, of course, as all he can imagine, now, is the man in bed— more specifically, what comes to mind is the man in _his_ bed.  He can perfectly imagine the sharp-soft rasp of the hair covering his jaw and cheeks as Vaas periodically strokes possessively over hollowed out cheeks with _just_ enough pressure to feel the way his dick slides smoothl—

 

“Hey!  _Hey_ , Vaas!  What the _fuck_ is going on with you, today?”

 

When the strange, humid haze lifts from Vaas’ thoughts, he finds that Jason has moved closer, and that dark aqua irises are moving searchingly over his surely frozen features.  The older of the two works his mouth soundlessly for a second— something he can’t remember _ever_ doing, before— and clears his dry throat lightly, trying his damnedest not to let his gaze wander anywhere other than his roommate’s concerned eyes.

 

“I— gimme a second, Jason.  Gotta put it all together in my head, first, hm?”

 

More than willing to let his roommate vent about whatever is on his mind, and having confirmed that his companion isn’t experiencing some kind of health crisis, Jason turns back to the counter and begins drinking said roommate’s homemade pineapple-mango fruit punch.  In the meantime, Vaas _finally_ comes to what he’s pretty sure is his right mind and figures that if pining away on the sidelines has never been his M.O., being as direct as he usually is is probably the most effective course of action.

 

As epiphanies go, it’s a pretty useful one.

 

“Okay, hermano, here’s the deal:  _I_ am gonna need _you_ to quit this ‘No Shave November’ bullshit and stop with the GQ beard, because if you get any more attractive, I _will_ have to fuck you.”

 

It’s a miracle that Jason only chokes on his beverage and doesn’t just outright spray it all over the room at the pronouncement.  As it is, he pounds on his chest a few times to knock everything back into whack, hopefully.

 

“Y-you, you _what?_ ”  Jason says, whipping around with wide eyes, voice strangled and hovering nearly an octave above where it typically does.

 

Vaas has no trouble repeating himself as he slowly closes in on the room’s other occupant.

 

“If you don’t shave that beard,” he states with a simple sort of conviction, backing the taller man up against the countertop, “ _I.  Am going.  To **fuck** you._ ”

 

The slightly startled look on Jason’s face quickly settles into something far more interested-looking than apprehensive.

 

Huh.  So maybe the white boy _is_ thirsty for something else other than what he’s been drinking for the last few minutes.

 

Vaas smirks as Jason seems to gather himself enough to shoot back a growing grin of his own while aiming green-speckled deep-sea blue eyes to meet his gaze head on.  Then, the clack and scrape of a glass contacting the countertop and being slid away breaks the silence that fosters a building tension between them.

 

The suddenly cocky California boy pushes off of the tabletop behind him in order to bring their bodies into full contact, and Vaas can most definitely feel _precisely_ how interested he is through the strained fabric of his kelly green boxer-briefs.  Feeling indulgent and more than thrilled at this new side of his generally easy-going roommate, Vaas allows exploratory hands to run over his shoulders and upwards.  One ends up gripping the nape of his neck to urge him forward and the other frames the side of his face and part of his jaw to the same end.

 

“Good,” the skydiving instructor intones lowly, cheeks flushing an appealing red just above the start of his beard.  “That’s kinda’ what I was aiming for these past couple of weeks.”

 

When they finally connect in a fierce embrace, Vaas shudders at an initial scrape of thick bristles against his own stylized facial hair, and growls into the kiss before surging forward to press Jason back against the cabinets hard enough for the glassware inside to rattle at the impact.  He grasps a cloth-covered hip with greedy fingers and moves his other hand to possessively span one asscheek before grabbing it firmly in order to pull their lower halves together more tightly. 

 

The pressure is _divine_ , and Vaas grunts into the kiss as Jason exhales through his nose with a sound that is edged in something close to a moan.  With a wicked grin, the Rook native nips at the other man’s lower lip to prompt him into opening his mouth for his questing tongue while rocking his hips forward very deliberately.  And then he moves his hand over and lightly strokes a finger over the younger male’s cloth-covered hole.

 

The resulting thready, desperate moan is _exactly_ what he has been looking forward to hearing, and the newly revealed pale expanse of throat and collarbone looks tragically unmarred when Jason throws his head back against the cupboards behind him.

 

“Nn… _fuck_ , Vaas.”

 

The middle Brody brother is panting when he looks down again with lust-blown eyes several seconds later.

 

His roommate’s already sex-wrecked voice is doing _things_ to Vaas, whose erection flexes within the uncomfortable confines of his cargo pants and underwear.

_Fuck, indeed._

 

It certainly looks like his horny, animal hindbrain had made an accurate hypothesis about exactly how _vocal_ Jason would be in this exact situation, and the confirmation of that concept only makes Vaas want to further test the parameters of that initial supposition.  (He’s a fairly scientific guy, and he knows that thorough, abundant trials are in order for any comprehensive study, luckily.)

 

Having had two or three moments to catch his breath, Jason lunges forward and frames Vaas’ face with both hands to pull him back into a more frantic, dirty liplock that instigates their attempt to make their way to the nearest flat, comfortable surface.

 

Thirty seconds later and Vaas is stripping off the trademark red sleeveless shirt that he wears underneath his uniform top and unzipping his cargos in order to pull them down his legs along with his underwear.

 

His throbbing erection, finally free from cloying layers of fabric, bobs as he stalks toward Jason, who’d only had one piece of clothing to deal with and had been quick to sprawl invitingly across dark bedsheets.  Interestingly, the older man notes that the flush gracing Jason’s cheeks does indeed continue all the way down to his chest, which still heaves with excited passion.

 

The skydiving instructor raises one eyebrow in challenge before leisurely tugging one long line down his own flushed member, even as he smirks and licks over reddened, spit-slick lips.  His eyes unerringly dip down to focus hungrily on what so proudly stands at attention at the apex of his roommate’s toned thighs.

 

Standing at the foot of the bed, Vaas’ eyes track his companion’s teasing display and he makes no effort to hide his own far more feral smile.

 

“Mm, Pretty Boy,” he coos, tilting his side to the side, slightly.  “Think you’re cute, huh?  You’re looking pretty _thirsty_ over there, though, so how about you… come a little closer and let me get a good grip on that stupid beard of yours, hm?  See if we can get you a little something to wet your throat with.”

 

Jason’s eyes seem to grow even darker as Vaas continues talking, and Vaas wonders if he looks as wrecked as the other man somehow already does.  Shit, at this rate, the sex might kill them, if some groping and a bit of dirty talk has both of them this worked up.  Brody does sit up, though, taking a moment to roll his shoulders and arch his back in a brief stretch before _finally_ moving forward.

 

“C’mon, Jason— I’ve seen you neck a fucking bottle of Coors in three seconds flat— know you gotta have the gag reflex of a hooker in Bangko-”

 

He’d been watching as Jason knee-walked close enough to the edge of the bed to touch, again, but being fucking grabbed and pulled off balance is still a surprise, and it’s only his level of arousal and the anticipation of an incredibly good time that keeps his very healthy, instinctive ‘fight’ reflex from kicking in.

 

A split second for Jason to mutter “Shut up, Vaas,” and reacting passively quickly proves to have been the correct course, as Vaas’ dick is suddenly being expertly deep-throated to within an inch of its life.

 

“Oh-hoh-ho— holy _shit_ , Jason.  _Yes,”_ he hisses, spreading his legs to give the man more room to work with.  God _damn_ , who knew the white boy had this much game when he’d looked so scandalized in the kitchen, earlier, at Vaas’ initial come-on.

 

There is an undulating hint of tongue _just_ under the head that has the Rook native hissing out a series of invectives at a number of gods and helplessly thrusting up into the amazing vacuum of wet heat that surrounds his manhood when it slides back for a brief moment.

 

Forty interminable seconds of toe-curling pleasure pass, wherein Vaas has to pull from his reserves like never before to avoid a premature approach to the edge that even his adolescent self would scoff at.

 

“Okay, _okay_ , Jason.  Ay— _espera_ , cariño, I want— want to see you—.  Can’t sit up like this, anymore,” Vaas pants out, his arms tiring from maintaining the awkward angle while he stays up on his elbows to watch the absolute most enthusiastic blowjob he has _ever_ received.  _[(espera - wait; hold on)]_

 

He ends up having to both repeat himself _and_ start scooching backwards for Jason to get the idea, briefly leaving the hyper-fixated male to pull back, dazed and short of breath for several seconds, face adorably confused.

 

Vaas can’t help but smile, even as offensively turned on and hungry for carnal satiation as he is, and simply beckons Jason forward again, making himself more comfortable with the pillows at his back between him and the headboard.  Without further prompting, Jason moves up, licks his lips, darts his desire-blown eyes up to meet Vaas’ for a moment, and then goes right back down to the root of his roommate’s shaft with seemingly no effort.

 

Said roommate melts into the soft cushioning at his back for several seconds, and lightly runs one hand over Jason’s hairy cheek, purposely going against the grain and enjoying the prickly sensation for a good while.  His hand continues on to the soft, mussed hair at the back of the head that has gone back to steadily bobbing in his lap and pulling all manner of pleasured hisses and filthy compliments from him.

 

The moment he applies a bit of pressure with that hand and fucks up with intent into the heat surrounding his dick, he notes that Jason’s hips, which have been continuously moving against the bed, stutter in their rhythm and pick back up with a more fervent grinding pattern.  It’s also pretty hard to miss the broken-sounding groan that causes a series of thrilling vibrations that travel straight through Vaas’ dick and right to the pleasure center of his brain.

 

What seems like ages ago, in the kitchen, Vaas had intended to drag Jason off to whichever bedroom and absolutely _wreck_ that little ass and hopefully, _finally_ , burn out whatever weird ‘thing’ he’s developed for his roommate.  (A ‘thing’ which, if he were to be honest, predates The Beard.)  Instead, he’s what seems like seconds away from blowing his load down the guy’s throat, like, six minutes into a wildly enthusiastic demonstration of oral skill.

 

When Jason pulls back all the way and releases his dick with an audible pop, he looks straight up at Vaas and has the nerve to shoot him the same, cocky smirk he had several minutes ago, even with his face completely sex-flushed and his hair in total disarray from Vaas’ greedy hands.  All the while, he expertly pumps at Vaas’ blood-darkened erection, which glistens with a copious amount of saliva and a good amount of precome.

 

The fucker.

 

“Mm,” he rasps, voice absolutely shattered for obvious reasons. “Still want me to shave my beard, Vaas?”

 

Half irritated at how obnoxious his chosen bedmate apparently still is even at this moment, and increasingly desperate to finally get his rocks off like he’s been anticipating for however long now, Vaas snarls wordlessly while Jason chuckles for a brief moment at the way the hand at the back of his head presses insistently downward, again.

 

As the other male sets back to his previous task with renewed vigor, Vaas’ mouth drops open for a moment as he tilts his head back against the headboard and allows his hips to move freely as the jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine start building in intensity.

 

“ _Yess_ ,” he hisses, “fucking _take it,_ Jason.  Gonna— gonna fucking blow, soon.”

 

Watching Jason’s reaction as he cites any number of explicit intentions and thoughts only brings him closer to the edge: blue-green eyes that have been half-lidded and thoroughly unfocused slide shut and a muffled series of keening moans and huffs escape from the otherwise occupied mouth.

 

“ _Fuck_ , cariño. C’mon, gotta—,” he rumbles nonsensically, finally fully leveraging his advantageous position to unreservedly hammer up into the wet heat above him, holding Jason’s head steady with one hand as his other braces against the wall behind the headboard.

 

An emphatic moan is audible as Jason seems to revel in simply letting his mouth be used by Vaas, and he clenches handfuls of mussed comforter even as his hips rock and rub downward with desperate, almost mindless intensity.

 

The tension snaps, suddenly, when Jason reflexively swallows around him twice in rapid succession, and then Vaas is coming in long, powerful pulses that seem to steal away his breath for several dizzying seconds.  He’s not aware of anything beyond the feeling of his brain oozing out of his ears (or maybe draining straight out of his dick), but when he blinks a few times, a minute later, he realizes that at least he’d let go of Jason’s now thoroughly insane-looking hair.

 

His beard-chafed thighs are trembling and he almost feels like he does when he’s gotten into some of the heavier shit he still keeps in his backup stash of pills and potions, but he does still have the wherewithal to check on his partner, because he’ll be damned if anyone whose bed he graces ever says he didn’t get them off in spectacular fashion.

 

Jason’s head is resting comfortably right next to Vaas’s mostly deflated length, and he’s sporting an absolutely ridiculous half-grin, even with his eyes closed.  The thoroughly tuckered out tour guide taps Jasons’s upper back with his foot (he’d apparently bent both knees and planted his feet flat at some point, for better leverage, but they’ve since fallen open into a more natural sprawl).

 

“Hey.  Hey Jason, you wanna come up here so I can return the favour?” he asks, not unkindly, if a bit coyly.  “Whaddyou like?  I’ve got lube, a few toys, _very_ talented hands, and a pretty extensive sexual repertoire, hm?”

 

God knows Vaas just had about the best sex of his life, even though their dicks had scarcely touched, so he’s more than willing to at least demonstrate his own prowess at giving head or handjobs or fingering.  Or, shit— all the above.

 

In response to his question, the middle Brody sibling grunts sleepily and turns his body to curl halfway around the foot that had just nudged him, and murmurs something to the effect of “Nn-nn.  Alr’dy came, th’nks.  Sleep now, mkay?”

 

Vaguely bewildered but pretty exhausted both from his long day at work and his unexpectedly intense romp in the sack, Vaas runs a hand over his half-limp hair and mentally shrugs before clambering over the other man in order to avoid the wet spot (which had been revealed when Jason rolled over).  In short order, he settles in, there, a bit farther down the bed to leave them evenly positioned.

 

He doesn’t know exactly how touchy-feely Jason is after sex, but he does sprawl nearby enough that their bodies connect comfortably at several points.  Feeling himself start to drop off to sleep surprisingly quickly, he haphazardly pulls a light sheet that has nearly been dislodged from the bed back up and over their bodies.

 

“Okay, Jason,” he accedes drowsily while his muzzy thoughts gently slip away. “Okay.”

 

Sleep seems like just the right idea to go with, for now.

 

 

* * *

 

(Here's the amazing YikYak that influenced the latter half of this fic.)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! This was really and truly my first time writing a sex scene in any detail, so I hope it's okay. :/
> 
> (P.S. Fun fact-- Vaas was supposed to actually do the do with Jason, but apparently I am not in control of anyone I write, and they decided to veer in another direction halfway through the fic. Thanks, guys...)  
> *
> 
> Come check out [my writing blog](https://dovahdoeswrite.tumblr.com/), where I post early fic snippets and keep you updated on what i'm working on in what fandoms!
> 
> Kudos and comments are love: feel free to leave me some, kind readers~. (ღˇ◡ˇ)~♥


End file.
